


Feelin Way Too Damn Good

by fckyeahgallavich



Category: Shameless (US), gallavich - Fandom
Genre: Domestic Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Dorks in Love, Fluff, Happy, Ian Gallagher Loves Mickey Milkovich, Idiots in Love, M/M, Making Love, Reflection, Sweet, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:08:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25534876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fckyeahgallavich/pseuds/fckyeahgallavich
Summary: Ian heard Carl remark “damn, is this year turning into one giant honeymoon or some shit?” and Sandy audibly hit him, shooting back, “please! After all the Hell they’ve been through the past ten years? They deserve a long honeymoon phase!”Something's gotta go wrong, 'cuz I'm feelin' way too damn good... ~"Feelin' Way Too Damn Good" -- Nickelback
Relationships: Ian Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 9
Kudos: 199





	Feelin Way Too Damn Good

There were many blessings with being married to Mickey Milkovich. Most of these blessings were invisible to everyone besides Ian himself because no one else besides Ian was allowed to see Mickey as he sees him. To everyone else, Mickey is a hardass, a grump, a whole-ass chip on the shoulder — And to a degree, yes, Ian could agree that he was all that and more. But no one else got to see Mickey as  _ Ian  _ saw him. No one else saw the way stone seemed to melt away from the hardness in his eyes, his shoulders, his mouth when they were alone. Mickey smiled  _ all the time  _ when it was just him and Ian — and Ian wasn’t about to feign modesty and pretend that he didn’t know that he was who did that for Mickey. Though Mickey was no longer violently closed off due to fear of his father or anyone else, he still maintained that don’t-fuck-with-me stoicism when around other people and it was moments like these that really illustrated the changes in Mickey.

They’d stripped each other of their clothes as soon as they arrived home and climbed the stairs to get at each other when from behind them, Ian heard Carl remark “damn, is this year turning into one giant honeymoon or some shit?” and Sandy, over to visit Debbie as was usual, audibly hit him, shooting back, “please! After all the Hell they’ve been through the past ten years? They  _ deserve  _ a  _ long  _ honeymoon phase!”

And though Ian appreciated Sandy defending them, it also brought a bad taste to his mouth.

_ Honeymoon phase… _

Sure, he and Mickey knew eventually something unpleasant would come at them — Most of their lives have comprised of unpleasantness after all — but that phrase “honeymoon phase” implied they were only happy, only head over heels for each other, only getting along this well because of some sort of “phase” of time distorted by rose-tinted-glasses rather than them just… finally being  _ allowed  _ to be happy.

Ian’s insecurities were eased with each pass of Mickey’s gentle hands, the tips of his fingers — across his shoulders, down his back, into his hair as Ian loved him, rolling his hips against Mickey’s, rolling into him and cradling his head, which Mickey then held with one hand, into the nook of Mickey’s neck. It was as though Mickey knew, too, that there was something on Ian’s mind as he muttered “I love you” against Ian’s temple. Ian, being a little preoccupied by physical exertion, panted and kissed Mickey’s neck. Mickey’s answering smile was audible as he sighed in satisfaction from the pressure Ian applied to  _ that  _ spot. Ian grinned against his skin and gently nipped at  _ that  _ spot, resulting in Mickey’s hips bucking up with a deeper, grunting sigh.

But the rightness of their married life wasn’t exclusively left to their bedroom. They laughed  _ all the fucking time.  _ They shared house responsibilities and somehow made them fun. They talked about nothing at all and important shit and always ended their days with a kiss that never lacked passion or that butterflies in the stomach feeling. 

Just last week Mickey had planted his happy ass up on the counter and dried the freshly washed dishes Ian handed to him as he washed them. They hadn’t even discussed it, but soon after the wedding there was an unspoken agreement between them that every single time it was Ian's and Mickey's turns to do the dishes Mickey's butt met with the top of the counter and they completed the task together. As always, Ian started running the water in the sink, drizzling soap into the water and Mickey had come up behind him, planting a quick peck of a kiss on his back, right between the shoulder blades, and turned to lean against the counter. He’d watched as Ian removed his rings and placed them on the windowsill for safe keeping. Mickey pushed himself away from the counter, sauntering to the drawers at the end of the island and grabbed a clean towel, turning right back around and hopping up on the counter. Out of nowhere he started telling a silly story about something that happened at work and Ian listened, returning with a story of his own, and so they continued through the entire task. The same as with the first time, and every time since then, they sank into this routine, without any question or clarification, they settled into that pattern: Ian washed and rinsed, Mickey dried and stacked off to the side; first plates, then bowls, then silverware and cups. Ian puts the dishes away and gets the pans and cookware next and by that point they’re talking about what’s coming up in the next week or so, though in this case they planned their weekend off together, the first they’ve had in over a month. At the end, Mickey was about to jump from the countertop but Ian caged him in, placing one hand on either side of Mickey’s hips and Mickey had smirked… no, it was a genuine smile, and laid one arm on either of Ian’s shoulders. Ian had, like a magnet drawn to iron, nestled himself between Mickey’s spread knees. Ian leaned in to press a kiss to Mickey’s lips and Mickey acted unresponsive, allowing the other man’s lips to rest against his, refusing to return the pressure. But Ian persisted and eventually a quick, light laugh burst from Mickey’s closed lips, raising them into a smile before he returned the pressure in kind. Ian also smiled as they kissed lightly — noting the butterflies that  _ still  _ erupt every time their lips meet. Mickey played with the back of Ian’s hair but broke the kiss abruptly and leaned to his right, arm reaching out to grab Ian’s rings. After successfully retrieving them, Mickey returned to sitting upright and took Ian’s left hand in his.

“Don’t want to repeat —”

“Ugh, not  _ again!” _ Ian interrupted. _ “ _ I already said I’m sorry!” Nearly every time Mickey found Ian’s rings somewhere other than in their rightful place on his finger, Mickey reminded him of the time they discovered Ian’s rings precariously perched inside the sink right before the drain. They supposed that at some point or another someone had knocked the rings off the sill when Ian didn’t immediately put them back on after dishes and neither he nor whoever knocked them down noticed. Mickey smirked, a small choked-off laugh sounding from the back of his throat as he slid first the white gold band Ian had selected and then the black decorative piece Mickey had chosen back into their proper place. 

And there the newly weds stayed, Mickey perched with his hands roaming Ian’s chest, back, and hair and Ian running small circles into the tops of Mickey’s thighs with his thumbs for… god, it had to have been roughly ten or fifteen minutes of just laughing and smiling and kissing lightly with Mickey playing with that red hair he loved so fucking much before Carl walked in and called them out for their constant PDA.

Ian had got Carl to shut up after reminding him of the PTSD he retained from his younger brother’s time with Kassidi and while Ian was distracted Mickey wound up the dishtowel and whipped his ass with it. Ian grabbed at the place of impact, practically bouncing with the startle, and turned to face his husband, mouth open in a deep O. Mickey laughed and leapt from the counter to dodge whatever attack Ian had planned in retaliation.

Debbie ended up bitching them out pretty good for the racket they’d caused, waking Frannie and keeping her up well past their bedtime. Both men had sincerely apologized… but they all knew in reality that it was going to happen again.

Neither Ian nor Mickey had experienced happiness like this… uninterrupted, without consequences. They were just…  _ happy. _

Ian was suddenly struck by this as Mickey remained seated in Ian’s lap, kept Ian buried inside him to the hilt, after they were done and the way the older man kept his arms draped over Ian’s shoulders in a light hug… 

He was suddenly overwhelmed by this moment… because for years neither of them never could have guessed or dared to dream that they would get to this point. And it  _ did  _ feel like he was dreaming… And that scared him. It was almost like waiting for the other shoe to drop and trying to stay in a constant state of preparedness for that moment. Mickey pulled back and furrowed his brow. He didn’t even need to ask the question for Ian to know exactly what he was asking.

“I just…” Ian murmured but was cut off by his mind suddenly going blank. He bit his lip and tipped his head so his forehead rest against Mickey’s chest. Mickey ran a tender hand across the top of his hair but remained silent.

“I think this is the longest amount of time we’ve had where we could just… be happy, you know?” Ian finally answered, pulling back from Mickey’s chest, but keeping his eyes glued to his name permanently ascribed across Mickey’s chest. Mickey followed suit, leaning back ever so slightly so he could meet gazes with Ian.

“Nice, huh?” Mickey smiled. Ian smiled back, but it was tinged with sadness that Mickey surely noticed. The softening of his eyes definitely showed that he recognized Ian’s anxiety and he leaned forward, pressing a lingering kiss against Ian’s forehead. 

“There ain’t nothin’ we can do but enjoy it while it lasts, man. And take whatever bullshit ends up coming our way as partners. You know, that shit that we always  _ wanted  _ to do?” Ian nodded in agreement. This was truly what they’d always wanted and here Ian was not even sure if he could trust it.

“So you’re just… enjoying it while it lasts?” Ian murmured in disbelief. “You’re not worried about this just bein’ a ‘honeymoon phase’ or something?” Mickey’s brows furrowed.

“So the fuck what if it is? That don’t mean this is the only time we’re gonna be happy. We’ve  _ always  _ found ways to make it work, Ian. That’s not gonna change now unless you want it to.” Ian’s eyes slid closed and he nodded, a small smile lifting the corner of his mouth.

“When’d you get so wise and sagely, Mick?” Ian teased. Mickey huffed a laugh and he played with his tongue as he seemed to think through his response.

“Just don’t want you... What is it Debbie's been talkin' about...?"

"Self-sabotage?" Ian guessed.

"Right! Yeah, I don't want you ‘self-sabotagin’ or whatever the fuck because you’re thinkin' shit’s suspiciously too good right now. There’s nothin’ wrong with being happy, Ian.”

Ian didn’t have a response to that, so he pulled on Mickey’s thighs to pull him closer into him. The movement apparently stirred something in Mickey as his eyes rolled back and he bit his lip to quiet the answering moan. Ian beamed and ran a hand up Mickey's naked back. He loved the soft, supple feel of his skin... how his fingertips dipped and rose over the curves of his muscle. He wrapped his arm up his husband's back and curled his fingers over his shoulder, thumb digging in for a light massage. Mickey hummed and dipped his face into the crook of Ian's neck, exposing his shoulder for Ian to lay more adoring kisses against his shoulder and chest. Mickey also ran his fingers against the planes of Ian's back muscles and he could practically feel the smile on his husband's face and he smiled in return.

He was truly overwhelmed by their happiness and his love for this man. But like Mickey so wisely said, it's okay to be happy, and for now Ian was going to just enjoy the happiness they'd damn well earned.


End file.
